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When I was in eighth grade, a seventh grader asked me why I was dressed like a girl.

I wanted to punch her down the stairs. I could have; I was all set up for it, two steps directly above her. But I didn’t. I said “because I am one” and walked away. I am biologically female, always have been. That day I wore a beanie, and because I’m a swimmer I tucked all of my hair into it, because the closest thing I had ever worn to a beanie was a swim cap and that’s what you do with swim caps.

That was the same year I cross-dressed for the first time, and looking back at it I wonder if that girl had anything to do with it. It sure as hell shattered my teetering fourteen-year-old confidence as a girl, being a guy might have been an escape route. [I can’t say I regret it, though. Guys’ cosplays are more fun, most girls cosplays basically amount to some variant of a bikini and/or dress, both of which would be inconvenient for walking around Con.]

Look at all the fun stuff that comes out of having to write a personal narrative about power for English.

Filed under Journal Entry 27 January 2011

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